


"I do."

by courvoisierinmycoffee



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, F/F, F/M, M/M, idk how to tag, they all die ??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 04:39:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6409162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/courvoisierinmycoffee/pseuds/courvoisierinmycoffee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three Tyrells who never got their happy ending and one who did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"I do."

i. Willas

The ringing of a bell jolts Willas from his thoughts, causing the man to jump slightly in his seat and look toward that leads out into the main shop. Frowning, he reaches out for his cane. His siblings had left almost an hour ago – Margaery always changed the sign to ‘Closed’ when they left – and they very rarely returned. Relying heavily on his cane, his leg aching more than usual, Willas stands and limps toward the door.

“Hello,” He calls out, moving past the collection of tulips that Margaery hated so much, toward the sound of giggling children. It isn’t his siblings, then. There is no reply, causing Willas’ frown to deepen. Customers make him uncomfortable, as he is so familiar with hiding away in the back. Despite the limp, he quickens his pace and soon finds two toddlers rushing after one another. One almost knocks him over.

A man stands, back facing Willas, by the Tyrell’s favourite wall of roses – bright yellow, blooming beautifully now. “The shop is closed, I’m sorry.” Willas tells him, an attempt at remaining professional. Immediately, Willas regrets his words. Turning, the man offers a raised brow and an amused smirk in response. He is gorgeous – dark skin and dark eyes that shine with mischief. A dark flush paints itself across Willas’ cheeks. “You h-have to go,” He stutters out, ducking his head and attempting not to look at the man. The two children push past him, their laughter filling the silence that Willas has caused.

“I need flowers.” The man eventually declares, lips curled up in a grin that sends shivers down Willas’ spine.

“Most do.” He comments, gaze on the two girls that now cling to their father’s side. Willas wants to ask who their mother is, although he cannot muster up the courage and chews at his lip instead. “For who?” Willas inquires instead.

“You,” The answer surprises him. Dropping his head again, Willas turns away. He leans against his cane, squeezing his eyes closed. Willas shakes his head. ”I’m serious,” The man insists, “I want to give you flowers.”

“From my own store?”

“From your own store.” He confirms.

Willas laughs softly. ”Don’t do this, Oberyn.” He finally replies, sick of the constant game that Oberyn Martell has been playing with him over the years. “You’ve been gone three years.”

“I’m back now.”

“With another two children I doubt you know the mother-or shall I say mothers of.”

“Ellaria Sand.”

Willas scoffs, “Congratulations.”

“Don’t be angry at me, Willas.” Oberyn sighs, shooing the two children out of the door and toward a woman waiting patiently by an expensive car. Ellaria. ”The rest of your family already hate me enough.”

“Are you two together?”

“Not at the moment.” Of course not. Oberyn wouldn’t visit him if there was someone else.

The Tyrell huffs. It shouldn’t have been enough - not after everything, not after their past - but it was. Oberyn already knew that Willas would forgive him. Willas would always forgive him. “What do you want, then?”

“Flowers.” Oberyn answers, moving closer to Willas. Soon enough, there is a hand on his wrist. The Tyrell laughs again. “Your favourite.” The words make Willas grin slightly, despite his annoyance. He glances toward the pretty roses. “See, I can still make you smile, Tyrell. You love me.” Although his tone is joking, there is an undertone of a seriousness that Willas rarely hears from Oberyn.

“I do.” Willas confesses.

“I know.”

* * *

That evening, Oberyn Martell buys him flowers that Willas keeps months, even after they have wilted. Margaery is the one to eventually throw them away, when she finds her eldest brother shaking on the floor, Ellaria Sand’s letter in his hands.

“He’s dead,” Willas tells her, hands shaking as he looks down at the words. She smooths back his hair, struggling to search for words to say. ”I loved him.”

Margaery sighs and kisses his temple, before pulling Willas into her arms and letting him cry. ”I know you did.”

 

* * *

ii. Loras

 

His eyes are a lovely brown and his smile is kind.

Loras watches him from the corner of his eye, curious, but attempting to remain subtle. The man is  a stranger, yet he makes Margaery laugh as if they have known each other forever, and Loras’ heart beats faster with each smile the man offers his younger sister.

“Margaery,” Loras eventually interrupts, twisting on his heel to watch the pair glance over at him. Margaery raises an eyebrow; Loras cheeks turn an embarrassing shade of pink. The man simply grins.

“Yes?”

“Willas told me the new stock of rose seeds arrived.”

“Can’t you get them?”

“They’re your roses.”

The pair stare at each other for a long moment, both equally stubborn, before Margaery smirks and stands swiftly from her seat. She nods at the client, before slipping past Loras and heading toward the back room. Loras hopes she will linger with their older brothers, even after she realises Loras had been lying through his teeth. Left behind in her wake are Loras and the other man. With cheeks still red, Loras moves swiftly behind the counter, replacing Margaery.

“Is that all you need?“ Loras asks, nodding toward the bouquet settled on the counter. It is beautiful – their best roses; Margaery must have chosen most of them. Loras wishes it was for him.

His smile turns mischievous. “One thing.” The man answers.

“Oh?” Loras leans forward, arching a brow and growing more flirtatious with each appreciating glance the brunet gives him. It’s a relief to know the attraction is mutual.

“A date?”

Loras smirks in return. “With my sister?”

“With you.”

“You could at least give me your name first.”

“Renly.” Renly. It’s gorgeous.

“Loras.”

“Do you want to go on that date, then?”

“I do.”

* * *

Renly Baratheon is a blessing in Loras’ life - a stark contrast to the hot-headedness and constant business of the Tyrells. A kind, sweet man. And Loras Tyrell is undeniably in love with him.

Renly Baratheon is everything to him and Loras loves him. Loves him more than anything in the world, and when Renly Baratheon dies - a car crash, an _accident_ \- he regrets every moment they have ever spent together. Because it can’t be worth it, can it? All that happiness, destroyed by one phone call. Torn apart by an accident. That pain - the heartbreak that Loras can’t shake, no matter what he does. Years with Renly Baratheon can’t be worth the physical pain that Loras feels every time he even dares to think about the older man. None of that can be worth it.

(But it is.)

* * *

iii. Margaery

Sansa Stark kisses as if the world is ending.

“Stop,” Margaery laughs gently, pushing the girl away and settling back into her seat behind the shop’s counter. Although she usually doesn’t protest to kisses so passionate - they are a rare thing for Sansa, after all - Margaery has work to do. She tells Sansa just as such.

“I wanted to say goodbye.”

Margaery rolls her eyes, turning away to pluck a flower from the row of roses behind her. “You aren’t going away forever, San,” She reminds the red-haired girl, handing over the pretty rose once she turns back again.

The younger of the two blushes slightly, a light pink dusted across her cheeks prettily. Fondly, Margaery smiles at her. "It feels as if I am.”

“You can visit during the holidays.” Margaery tells her, repeating the words she has been since Sansa had revealed she was leaving for an internship. “I won’t find anyone better than you, if that’s what you’re worried about. You, Sansa Stark, are all I need.”

“I love you,” Sansa murmurs to her in response, eyes brimming with tears now.

Immediately, Margaery reaches up to brush them away. “And, I love you too.” The brunette replies, pecking her girlfriend’s lips quickly. “Which is why, I know, you and I will be perfectly fine. Trust me.”

“I do.”

“Save those words for our wedding day.”

* * *

Sansa Stark does, in fact, save those words, waiting for her wedding day. However, she never does get to utter them. Instead of planning for a wedding, she organises a funeral.

* * *

\+ i. Garlan

They dance beneath the stars, with Leonette’s hand in his own and their eyes focused on each other - only one another, nobody else. She smiles at him as if he is the sun, and Garlan grins back at her, because she is his universe.

He spends a moment searching for his siblings, finding them one at a time. Willas, still sat in the corner, alone, where he has been all night. Loras stands to the side, closed off and listening half-heartedly as a group of girls giggle around him. Lastly, he catches sight of an empty chair where his younger sister should be. Instead, Sansa Stark sits in a place beside it and grips tightly to an engagement ring that had never been given to her by the right person.

**Author's Note:**

> This is pretty awful, but please don't hate me too much for it. Thank you for reading, though! 
> 
> All mistakes are my own and I apologise for them. Constructive criticism is appreciated too.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Rewriting](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7754188) by [SxnsaStark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SxnsaStark/pseuds/SxnsaStark)




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